Written by Abraham Higginbotham and Chuck Martin.
Lindsay: My daughter doesn’t need me.
George Michael: Neither does my dad.
Narrator: Had George Michael and Lindsay stayed, they might have discovered what Michael and Maeby did— that “Afternoon Delight” was more adult-themed than its innocent melody would have you believe.
Maeby: (Singing.) / And the thought of rubbing you is getting so exciting / Skyrockets in flight /
Michael: Hang on, Maeby.
Maeby: / Afternoon delight... /
Michael: (Turns off music.) Listen, I’m going to go get some punch because it is toast time. Okay?
Michael: No, no, no, it’ll look worse. Go that way.
G.O.B.: So... Let’s toast me. Who’s first?
G.O.B.: Tom, why don’t you come up here and talk about me for a few minutes.
G.O.B.: You do this, Tom?
Tom: No.
G.O.B.: You’re a real smart ass, you know that, Tom.
G.O.B.: No, you know what, you’re fired. No, you’re all fired. Each and every one of you. Merry Christmas.
Michael: I didn’t know the lyrics. Where’s everybody going?
Ted: We don’t work here anymore.
Michael: What?
Ted: Is your sister still around?
Narrator: The Christmas party had been a disaster.
G.O.B.: I did the right thing, Michael. If I don’t fire them, how do I teach a lesson to the others?![]()
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Michael: There are no others. You fired everyone.
G.O.B.: Oh, that’s... that’s-that’s great. The guy who’s dirty dancing with his niece is going to tell the guy in the thirty-six hundred dollar suit how to run the business. Come on.
Michael: I know. Maybe we’re better off with me being business-like and you being the good-time, useless party guy.
G.O.B.: It got us this far.
Michael: Mm-hmm.
G.O.B.: And must say that I miss the laughter. Oh, God, how they used to laugh with me.
Michael: At you. We got to figure out a way to hire everybody back. A meeting.
G.O.B.: A party.
